#i see hunter as this energetic thing that thrives through the thrill of a life it knows deep down is going to be short

[vela-pulsars]

a little experiment

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, ALEX! You’ve been accepted for the role of HORATIO. Admin Rogue: Alex, I can’t exaggerate enough how thrilled I was every moment of reading your app. You were so clever and thought so quickly, it was like seeing Hunter being built in front of me, until he became not just a character I wrote, but a person in his own right, quick-witted and dipped in gold. He was mesmerizing from start to finish; I believe I ended up half in love with him by the end of reading it. You brought such exciting depth to him that I can’t wait to see him brought to life! . Thank you for bringing my most beautiful son to the dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Alex Age | Twenty-four Preferred Pronouns | She/Her Activity Level | I am a full time grad student but because of the messy events happening throughout the world at the moment, I have been left with more free time than I know how to handle! I anticipate investing that time in plotting with people and beginning threads so once classes pick up again, I am in a rhythm and able to maintain stable activity (catching up on all/most replies 2-3 times a week). Timezone | US EST How did you find the rp?  | Honestly, at this point I don’t even remember. I have been lurking for eons, waiting for the right timing and the right character to become available, and now couldn’t be more perfect!

IN CHARACTER

Character | HORATIO, Hunter Marchesi

What drew you to this character? | There are about a thousand-and-one things that I could list here. I have always been drawn to characters that walk the line between golden and gilded, the ones that are a little bit too inhuman to be fully mortal and yet too weak to truly be a god. When I read Hunter’s biography, it was striking how electric he felt. Reading through the plot summaries, it’s evident that Verona has been wading through dark times for a while now, and glancing through several biographies, her inhabitants are not without their scars. Yet here is Hunter, a boy from out of town that stumbled into the greatest war the underbelly of Verona has ever seen. He’s too clever to be fully naïve, yet he’s rampantly green – and that newness brings with it a certain freshness. Hunter isn’t tarnished yet. His future is bright, and he’s ambitious enough to learn how to make himself known in a new society. All the possibilities that came tumbling in with Hunter was vastly appealing to me, as well as his capability to step confidently into this world. Also, this one line in Castora’s connection had me dead: “He doesn’t hate her of course; his family often deals in philanthropy.”

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

BECOMING INSTRUMENTAL: Being an initiate sounds significantly more important than Hunter currently feels. He’s too new to be helpful, too green to pretend that he knows what he’s doing. Hunter requires mentors to aid in his transition. After all, his face is one that’s never known a bruise, his fingers remain ignorant to the pulse of a trigger, and his nose blind to the rusting of blood. He has started taking on minor missions, learning what he can and aiming to impress, but he needs guidance if he’s going to thrive outside of his comfort zone, and the people that he receives that guidance from will leave a lasting impression upon the Montague’s newest recruit.

NEW MONEY: All his life, Hunter has lived within the penthouse of society. The Marchesi family had wealth so vast that it was rumored to transcend written record. Often, he heard his father discuss how he hardly considered new money families to be money at all. “After all, if you don’t have at least three generations of wealth, you’re no better than a peasant that happened to have a successful night of gambling.” Essentially, Hunter has no concept of what it means to happen into wealth, but he imagines it feels rather similar to his new position within the Montague ranks. It is not the Marchesi family that matters here. No, everyone around him owes blood it to the Montagues, and Hunter is beginning to expect there is no exchange rate for a life debt. He is dealing in an entirely new currency, which he finds remarkably exhilarating. His journey within the mob is just beginning, and as such he’s blinded by challenge and possibility and bolstered by a history that has never known failure. However, I anticipate Hunter stumbling as he assimilates into a new life, and as such, I expect that he will begin to struggle with his idea of self. Hunter is no longer defined by a name, or wealth, or charm; everyone around him carries such characteristics aplenty. For perhaps the first time, Hunter will need to learn how to identify himself without his very foundations, and that may entail a dash of demolition.

LOYALTY IS FICKLE: As someone that has only joined a mob to avoid certain death, Hunter lacks the strict loyalty that seems to flow through the veins of his new family. Of course, he remains loyal to his own life (who wouldn’t?), and to a certain degree, Henry (largely because the good professor had the courtesy to keep him alive). As such, Hunter is able to recognize that helping a Capulet would potentially ruin his future, but the fear of such ruination hasn’t yet gripped his heart. Why shouldn’t he reach out to Beau? What’s the worst that could happen? // The way I visualize this conflict entails Hunter reaching out to Beau before becoming completely entrenched within the Montague camp. Naturally, Hunter will come to realize just how dark and violent life at war can be, thus adding pressure to the help he’s become determined to offer, perhaps leading to the first glimmer that perhaps danger can be just as terrifying as it is invigorating.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | You have my blessing to kill him off as you see fit!

IN DEPTH

INTERVIEW

Hunter was never one to enjoy sitting still, and his leg bounced even as he reclined in his seat. Those that did not know him may mistake the bobbing as movement motivated by nervousness, yet there was too much light glittering across his eyes to be born of anything but excitement. He might as well have been starting his first day at his dream job, not beginning to repay a newly incurred life debt.

His accomplice didn’t appear quite as energetic. Their shoulders were slumped, their gaze downturned. When he’d walked in, Hunter had guessed him to be in his mid-twenties. With the cloud hovering over his head, he looked twice that age. Thirty minutes into a stake-out, Hunter had started picking up on the crow’s feet, the downward angle of his lips, the hair that was in desperate need of a trim. He’d always thought the grandiose mobsters of Verona would have more style.

Five minutes passed, and Hunter focused his attention on the dimly lit street in front of him. He’d been in the city less than a month now, and he barely recognized the intersection in front of them. “Where are we in the city?” he asked.

“Ten minutes north of the Roman Arena,” his partner answered. Hunter had introduced himself at the start of the mission, but his partner had settled for a quick once-over before settling on silence and slipping into the car. He hadn’t bothered to ask his name since.

“Haven’t made it to the Arena yet,” Hunter mused. His partner didn’t respond, so Hunter settled for another question. “What is your favorite place in Verona?” Again, he was met with silence. If they weren’t three hours into a stale stakeout, Hunter would have let it go. He would have read the tension between them as one better suited for silence, but three hours of nothing begged to be replaced by something of substance. “I think that I’ll be quite fond of Lamberti Tower when the time comes. Haven’t exactly had good reason to celebrate yet.” He leaned his head back against the headrest and waited for an answer that he knew wasn’t coming. This time, he let silence settle between them. The moon arched higher overhead, a desperate sliver against the abyss of the night sky.

Hunter glanced at the clock. It’d been ten minutes since his last question, meaning it was high time to strike up conversation again. “What’s your typical day like? So far, all I’ve done are stakeouts and guard shifts at the library.”

“Depends on the day.”

“You’re a real charmer, anyone ever tell you that?” Hunter softened the dig with a wink. “Know any particularly talented fighters? I’m looking for a sparring coach. Punching bags rarely hit back.” Silence. Not even a pity chuckle. “You’re going to need to start answering some of my questions. These are the easy ones.”

His partner glanced at him briefly. “Awfully bossy for an initiate, anyone ever tell you that?” A sigh, and Hunter assumed that was the end of the conversation but the next sentence came with a pleasant surprise. “What are you doing now? Working out? Running errands? Sucking up to your superiors? All worthwhile things, sure. But I’m guessing they aren’t scratching that adrenaline itch that drove you to sign up.”

“And what makes you think I have an – how did you put it? Adrenaline itch?”

“You’re young, confident, rich. The world was given to you on a silver platter so you’re wondering if it’ll taste different on paper. Need something to stoke your fire since you’ve never come in contact with real conflict. You made a mistake joining, kid.”

Hunter swallowed the first response that threatened to spring to his lips. His partner was trying to start a fight, to insult him to the point he’d shut up for the remainder of the night. He wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Alright then, if we’re talking about mistakes, teach me something. What’s the biggest mistake you’ve made thus far?”

“Man doesn’t go around bragging about his mistakes.”

For the first time all night, Hunter agreed with him. He didn’t want to speak of the first mistake he’d ever made in life that carried consequences. There was still something unsettling about remembering that night, Doctor Zhang creating bloodshed and making it disappear with the bat of an eye. He’d made it seem so easy, and Hunter couldn’t yet imagine himself in such a position. He’d wondered nightly if it was a mistake to have pursued Henry for this long, to think about him as frequently as he did. It led to far too many uncertainties. If Henry Zhang was his greatest mistake, then signing up for a philosophy course was the root of all evil. It sounded ridiculous. Naturally, that meant that the true nature of the mistake would require significantly more introspection than Hunter cared to participate in. So he settled: his biggest mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A shame, but at least it was true.

Nearly an hour passed, filled with a brief moment of excitement when they noted movement ahead only to be met by the visage of a couple stumbling home linked arm-in-arm. There were at least three hours still until sunrise, and Hunter was beginning to lose all motivation. There had to be a better use of time and resources. There was no way this would be his future.

“What’s the most difficult task they’ve asked of you?” he asked suddenly, sure that this night marked his own.

“Staking out in a car all night with an initiate that isn’t comfortable with silence.”

“I’m trying to learn. It shows initiative,” Hunter countered.

“It shows that you’re nosey.”

Hunter wanted to be offended, but he couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled from his lips. After a night of intermingled silence, distant traffic, and brusque responses, this was the closest thing to humor he’d encountered, even if it was at his own expense. “They haven’t asked anything difficult of me yet.”

“Be thankful for that, son. You need to learn how to crawl before you can walk.”

“Alas, I came out the womb already sprinting.” It might be the low lighting, but Hunter swore he saw the slightest smirk on his partner’s face. It was enough camaraderie to summon up the question he had been desperately wanting answered all night: “What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

What warmth he’d gained was quickly replaced with solid ice. “You shouldn’t ask questions like that.”

Hunter hummed. “Maybe not, but I’m still interested. I think it all seems very… personal. Professional on the surface, of course. They’re competing industries in a small space, conflict in inevitable. But it hardly seems as if they’re fighting over territory at this point. Everything feels much more intimate, and not in a particularly loving way.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He sounded confident, maybe even cocky. But he wasn’t entirely certain, and that unsettled him. Ever since arriving and locking himself within Verona’s perfect cage, he’d been trying to uncover the nature of this war they were fighting. If he was going to risk his life for someone, it only made sense to know why. Yet the answers were vague, elusive, textbook. There were too many layers of blood staining these streets to ever get at the bottom of it all, and Hunter was beginning to realize that like it or not, he’d been assigned a side in this war. And he would fight it.

EXTRAS

ZERO TO SIXTY: While Hunter was never groomed for war, a prior life of extravagance and wealth was not without its incidental lessons. Around his twentieth birthday, Hunter experienced a bout of boredom stronger than any that had come before. University was routine (save for the exception of a single course that oft labored late nights, red eyes, and grins that dripped sunshine), his parents were content with his performance, and his circle of friends remained vast and glittering of silver and gold. There was no change, no challenge looming ahead, and so he sought to create his own. // The first time he slipped into the driver’s seat of a Ferrari 488, he was sold. Looking back, he recognized his first lap as a slow fumble, but at the time he had felt himself a natural. Sinking into curves made his heart race, and the rumble of an engine with more power than he could control sent all thoughts of discontent scattering. Ever one to turn talent to profit, he began to race on the weekends, soaring with pride as his name began to climb the leaderboards of local tracks. The thought of turning his passion into a full-blown career would flit through his mind whenever he was standing in the winner’s circle, but he would wake the next morning with the knowledge that the lifetime wages of Formula One racers appeared mere pocket change next to the Marchesi fortune. Little did he know that he could one day turn his talent into a lucrative career as a getaway driver for the Montagues.

Driving playlist:   1. Physical // Dua Lipa. 2. Ride It // Regard. 3. Roller // Apache 207. 4. Red Flag // Billy Talent. 5. Run Boy run // Woodkid. 6. Slip // Skrizzly Adams. 7. Legend Has It // Run the Jewels.

FAMILIAL INFLUENCE: The headlines have been screaming it for ages: the British aristocracy is running low on funds. However, a single glance at the Marchesi family would cast doubt upon even the most reputable reporter. With manors in three different countries, the Marchesis have no qualms about demonstrating their wealth. // Jasper Marchesi was the eldest of four brothers, and he inherited his father’s art empire upon his death. Collectionswere the Marchesi trade, particularly the acquisition of difficult-to-come-by pieces. Jasper often cited the families distant Italian roots as being the source of his exquisite taste, and he honored the heritage by building a home in Milan. It was at this home that Hunter remembers spending a majority of the year, with voyages to Britain reserved for the holiday season and vacations to Brazil confined to the summer. // While her husband was rapt with the arts, Ana Marchesi believed that wealth was best unearthed in the modern-day gold of real estate. She began investigating just how lucrative buying, selling, and renting properties could be while her father was still traveling the world on diplomatic assignments. What started with a few rental houses quickly morphed into buying mansions left abandoned by new-money families that never had a chance of living in such elegance and transferring them (at a notable mark-up) back into the hands of those with the resources to invest in such a gilded future. Jasper reminded her on numerous occasions that such a business wasn’t necessary, that marrying into the Marchesi family meant that she had already bought into a future of diamonds and galas, but Ana insisted upon building her own empire. // Between the decadence of his father and the intrepid spirit of his mother, Hunter was destined for success. His family’s background required fluency in English, Italian, and Portuguese, and his father’s aptitude for the arts and his mother’s skill with finance instilled a harmony of practicum and creativity within him. He exclusively attended private schools as a child and enrolled in the most prestigious university in Italy without batting an eye. He pursued a degree in economics, and upon graduation assumed control of a subset of art galleries across Italy.

PLAYLIST

More // Poets of the Fall —What do you give someone who has it all? More, just to be sure. I got what I wanted so naturally I want more, what I paid for. Kansas City // The Mowgli’s — Been in a new town, got the same issues to work through. It turns out when you move, you just take them all with you. Wanna Be Missed // Hayley Kiyoko — I wanna be missed, like every night. I wanna be kissed, like it’s the last time. Say you can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t breathe without me. An Evening I Will Not Forget // Dermot Kennedy — I remember when her heart broke over stubborn shit. That’s no way to be living kid; the angel of death is ruthless. And I’m always thinking summertime with the bikes out, pushing our luck, getting wiped out, days with nothing but laughing loud. Power Over Me // Dermot Kennedy — I wanna be king in your story. I wanna know who you are. I want your heart to beat for me. Pay the Man // Foster the People — Seasons change, you know it’ll never be the same. We’ll see the sun again before it fades. I just wanna say [REDACTED]. Cringe // Matt Maeson — She said I’m looking like a bad man, smooth criminal. She said my spirit doesn’t move like it did before. She said that I don’t look like me no more. The Best // AWOLNATION —Me, I wanna walk a little bit taller. Me, I wanna feel a little bit stronger. Me, I wanna think a little bit smarter. Said I just want to be the best. Classic Man // Jidenna — My name, calling all night. I could pull the wool while I’m being polite. Like darling, calling all night. I can be a bull while I’m being polite. Bonus Track: 7 rings // Ariana Grande

PINTEREST